The Deep
by Orpah
Summary: Lithuania made a choice to live in pain no longer. Now he has to deal with the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Well, I needed to write something angsty, so enjoy, if you like that kind of thing...

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Lithuania sat quietly on the end of the dock, surveying the water. It was as placid as the sea could be expected to be, and he felt almost drawn into the ripples of it. He wished he could just be lost in the calming feeling, and become one with the water, like the Asian nations might say. He wasn't sure which ones, but he was sure at least one of them would say something like that.

Or maybe America would say something like that. The guy was, on and off again, into all that New Age stuff. Sometimes it was a little weird, like the time America had tried to arrange the rooms in his house so the feng shui was right, but it was yet another thing Lithuania liked about him. He was lovable, he was touchable, and always smiling, it seemed. Not when the economy had crashed, of course, the first time or the second.

But that wasn't important right now, Lithuania reflected, as he stared out across the gray waters. The purple sky beyond seemed to call his name, telling him to come home, to come and be with it forever. He smiled, but without a trace of humor. He really should have called Estonia and Latvia to tell them where he was going to be... they would be so worried. They wouldn't be able to find him here.

It did trouble him, honestly, but not enough to take out his cell phone and make the saving call. He fingered his phone for a moment, before leaving it be, staring at the pretty purple and pink sunset. He wanted to remember this moment, because it would be a long time before he saw anything that pretty again.

A flash of worry went through. What would the other nations think, if they saw him here? What would they think of what his plans for the future were? For the future was dismal, and he did not know if he wanted his name shamed in such a way. But it wasn't as though his plans were that unusual. A good ten to twenty million people did the exact same thing every year.

Of course, he was going about it in an unusual way, to be sure. It was so he wouldn't be discovered, for who knew how the other nations might react? They would think he was insane. No, his plan was sound, but it had to be secret.

Lithuania wondered, vaguely, how many of the nations had tried something like this before. It was logical, it was painfully obvious, this was the way to solve his problems. He didn't know what Russia would think. Would he smile, at his attacks on Lithuania's psyche and body finally getting a real reaction? Or would he find him and drag him out, only to mock him?

And what would America do? He would be heartbroken- no, heartbroken was too strong a word. America probably barely remembered how strong their camraderie had been. Lithuania refused to let his eyes sting with tears at the thought, though his heart gave a painful throb.

He'd always expected, when he got free, that America would sweep him off his feet, and wipe away those horrible memories. It was foolish, really, and so childish to have such a dream, but when it didn't come true, he was devastated. It had been about twenty years since, but he'd never gotten over feeling alone and naked in the world.

But now, that would end. Lithuania solemnly pushed the anchor chained to his leg over the edge of the dock, and he had only moments before he was pulled in, submerged completely in the cold water, and going down, down, down.

He held his breath only out of survival instinct, not a real will to live, for those adrenaline-pumped minutes he was down there, he could think one thing:

He was free now, and they would never find him.

Those were his last thoughts before he completely blacked out, sucking in water in his lungs' desperate attempts for air. And Lithuania died, but not for the first time.

/AN/ I've never written a suicide fic before, please, tell me how I did. And if you want a sequel chapter, where they find him and revive him, please let me know as well.


	2. Chapter 2

Since all of my reviewers wanted it, here's the second chapter! I just hope none of this story is too disturbing for my readers...

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Lithuania was trapped within his own memories, dead to humankind but not dead to God. He remembered his other attempts at this state, where he felt so little, so slowly. Once, he had cut his arms open, and just lay on his bathroom floor, waiting to bleed out. He'd finally passed out, and spent what seemed only a moment in that state until he woke and discovered himself in a pool of mostly dried blood, but his arms had healed up. He had felt despair at this, as it was his first attempt. That had been a few years back.

It had been a while until he'd worked up his courage (for which he had once been so famous, but now used to attempt to end his own life) and he tried again. This time, he stood on top of the tallest building in Vilnius. The wind had whistled around him, and he'd nearly backed down, before, in a burst of courage, he had forced himself off of the building. The ground had rushed up to meet him, and as soon as he hit it, he'd blacked out.

But then he'd woken up, with an agonizing headache and an aching body (he'd probably broken every bone in his body), and he was quite alive. In fact, he'd limped home shortly after. He couldn't comprehend, while the damage was being repaired in his brain, that he'd failed, and had stared listlessly at the walls until it had dawned on him. That had been a dark day.

The last time, he had taken well over 500mg of painkillers, and he would never forget how that felt. He'd gone into a seizure, foaming at the mouth and in a lot of pain. It had taken a little while, but he'd finally blacked out. However, he awoke again, as intact as ever, if a mess.

No one had noticed any of these times, not his next door neighbors, an old couple on one side of his tiny house and a young family on the other, not his government, and definitely not his fellow countries. In fact, he would be surprised if they noticed he was missing now before a week or so went by. But they would never find him, so it did not matter when they started looking.

That was right... nothing mattered now. Not now that he was down in the water, which he had to remind himself that was where he was, unable to revive. His heart no longer beat, his blood no longer ran. He was as cold as any corpse, and yet, so numb anyway, he couldn't feel it, but he _knew_ he was cold.

Here he would stay, until his country faded away, just like the Roman Empire, Livonia, Germania, and so many other countries before him. He would not be remembered. He would not be missed. And most of all, he would not be hurt or in pain.

Suddenly, his dark little world was interrupted, as his back scraped against a wooden surface and a great pressure slammed against his chest. "Hurk!" Out came the water that had filled his lungs; in came air, air that had never tasted so good. He hadn't known he'd missed it until now.

Lithuania breathed raspily, and he heard a shout of, "He's waking up! He's waking up!" His eyes slowly opened, and he got a glimpse of the bright, bright world, and he saw a few people: America, Russia and England, of all people. He shut his eyes again, shudders racing up and down his body violently. "Wrap him in this," came the unusually solemn command from Russia, and he felt himself being bundled up in something.

"He's probably going into shock," England pointed out, and it sounded as though he were farther away than the others. Lithuania's eyes slowly opened again, and he took in the scene. America, sopping wet, was squatting down next to him, blue eyes wide and filled with protective instinct. It was as though he felt there was something to protect him from. Russia stood a little farther back, his coat quite absent from his body, and instead Lithuania could see he was wearing a sweater and nice pants. His face was indecipherable, and Lithuania could not guess in the slightest if he was happy or angry, though it looked to be one or the other.

England stood a little ways beyond Russia, and he had flipped out his phone, punching in a number, and waiting for the reciever of the call to pick up. America was the first one to speak. "Lithuania, buddy, we thought you were a goner!"

"What do you mean 'we'? Russia and I knew he couldn't be dead," England snapped at America, clearly annoyed with his lack of knowledge. Russia only stiffly nodded. Somehow, America managed to smile. "Well, it's okay now, because we found you!"

Lithuania felt his lower lip begin to tremble, but it was impossible for the others to notice with his constant shuddering. America continued on, face suddenly turning deadly serious. "Lithuania, I need you to tell me: who did this to you? Because, if it was some terrorist group, I swear I'll-"

"No one," whispered Lithuania shakily, avoiding America's eyes. "-ing hunt them down and- wait, what did you say? Speak up!" Lithuania barely managed to bite back the tears, saying louder, "I-I did it m-m-myself..."

America was dumbfounded, and he stared at Lithuania as though he had never seen him before in his life. "What...? But, you can't really mean... You would never..." Russia's angry words interrupted him, however, as the behemoth nation suddenly stepped around and he seized the front of Lithuania's shirt, pulling him up so he was face to face with him.

"Lithuania, I have never expected such selfish behavior from you! You, who was once a proud warrior! What will you say to your brothers? What are you going to tell them? That you don't care what happens to them? And what about the rest of us, who have been searching for you for a week? Do you not care about us?" Russia paused in his tirade to hear Lithuania's pitiful answer.

"I-I... I didn't think you'd come!" His voice was a mere whisper of what it would normally be, and Russia glared down at him. "Did you think we would take your disappearance so lightly, or were you really so foolish as to believe we would forget you?"

Lithuania began to cry now, the barely held back tears coming down in a torrent. America snapped into action, hating to see people cry. "Leave him alone, Russia!" He pulled Lithuania back out of Russia's grasp, and the tall Russian let him go. Lithuania immediately pressed his face against America's strong shoulder, and sobbed harder.

America glared at Russia. "Can't you see he's already been through a lot of crap? Quit yelling at him!" Russia coldly replied, "He needs to understand the gravity of what he's done. Half the world came looking, just for him."

"You're heartless," America accused, wrapping his arms around Lithuania. "He just revived, and you're already dumping all this crap on him! And you haven't even asked him why he did it! You don't care about him, you're just upset you had to miss watching your favorite show or whatever."

Russia gave him a cold glare, but said nothing. America waited until Lithuania had finished sobbing, then lifted him bridal style. "We'd better take him back to his house. You don't have to come, Russia." England got off the phone just then, with a sigh. "I've called all the search parties. They're regrouping at the embassy."

America nodded, and led the way back to the car. Russia and England followed. Lithuania quavered inside. He was afraid of what kind of questions they might make him answer when they got him back to his house. But for now, he was warm in Russia's coat, and safe in America's arms.

/AN/ Wow, I think I'm going to make this three chapters! I hope you've been able to appreciate this story so far...


	3. Chapter 3

And here is the third chapter! I've had a good time writing this story! I'm sorry I took so long though... I had viruses on my computer, so things have been a little crazy!

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

The drive over had been silent, with Russia stonily staring ahead, England driving silently, and America keeping Lithuania feeling safe in his arms. Then, there had been the fun of getting Lithuania into the house, when Lithuania had insisted on walking so his neighbors didn't suspect anything. He was wobbly, and ended up leaning on America the whole way there anyway.

England had decided that he would go in with them, but he would be in the kitchen, making tea, and, Lithuania presumed, staying as far out of this as possible. The Brit was not exactly known for being able to deal with these kind of situations well, after all. Though, as America helped him up to his room and Russia followed behind with an eerie silence, Lithuania began to worry that Russia really wasn't the type to deal with this well either, and he would start yelling at him again. And that made his insides quiver.

Why? Maybe because he suspected, deep down, that Russia was right. Maybe he should have realised that he would have an effect on the world community. He had known, to begin with, that there would be the trouble of finding some way to represent Lithuania the country in their world meetings. But mostly, to be honest, he had seen no other way out, no other way to go. He had to escape the pain in his heart, the trauma he had never gotten over.

After clomping up the narrow staircase, America had to admit he had no idea where Lithuania's room was. Russia, grim and silent as ever, almost-gently pushed his way past Lithuania and less than gently pushed past America to go into the correct room. America started to follow, then looked back at Lithuania. "Hey, come on, don't just stand there! We've got to get you out of those wet clothes!" Lithuania hadn't realised he had stopped, and he slowly lifted his foot off of the thinly carpeted stair and onto the hallway floor. His shoes made squishing noises as he walked, ever reminding him of his actions he-didnt-know-how-long ago.

It was as though America was trying to ignore the fact that Lithuania had wanted himself dead. He was still cheery, still blithely leading the way, as always. Was there nothing that could get him down? Of course, Lithuania knew there was (Pearl Harbor, 9/11, The Columbine shootings), but it was hard to remember. He was sure he had never seen the American get sad, or cry, or do anything that wasn't confident and carefree. It made his heart twist a little with envy. Oh, to be America, and never worry about anything. His people weren't killing themselves in droves. He had never been under a tyrannical ruler. And he had clearly never been betrayed by his closest friend. He was nothing like Lithuania.

America's hand settled on the left side of Lithuania's back, directing him towards the room, as if he did not know where to go in his own house. But Lithuania allowed himself to be directed, and he entered the room quietly, ignoring Russia's cold, angry eyes on the other side, where he was standing by the window. America let out a loud sigh. "Well, then, I guess you kinda need to strip down now, Lithuania."

It was rather blunt, as America tended to be, and it caught Lithuania off guard. "E-excuse me?" His voice was slightly high pitched as his cheeks turned red despite his shaking body. Russia caught his eye, all coolness and business. "We cannot leave you alone to change. Who knows what you might try, da?" America was grinning rather awkwarrdly, but he nodded as well. "I hate to agree with Russia, but he's right. I don't- _We_ don't want you to hurt yourself."

Lithuania was humiliated, and he felt a lump form in his throat. Of course they wouldn't trust him after this. He should have realised that he would never be looked at the same again, and that his privacy might be taken away. But no, he was not some child that they needed to protect! He would not change in front of them, and he turned away a little, arms wrapped tightly around the coat he was enfolded in. "I'm not changing in front of you."

America sighed, but Russia beat him to a reply, stepping one large Russia-sized step towards Lithuania threateningly. "If you will not change, we will change you! Is that what you want?" America did not openly agree, but he didn't disagree, which unnerved Lithuania more than any vocalisation on the superpower's part might have. He looked down towards the floor, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Would he really allow himself to be treated this way? Would they treat him this way the rest of his life? Surely they realised that he couldn't kill himself.

"I'm fine, I don't need you... _babysitting_ me," he said, voice gaining some power as he looked from America to Russia, only faltering a little bit upon looking at the latter. Russia's expression darkened, and somehow he seemed to stand even taller over Lithuania. "You are not fine if you are drowning yourself! You are a pathetic baby who cannot handle life. Babies need to be taken care of. Do you have any objections?"

America quickly cut in, trying to soften the blow of Russia's words. "What he means, you're obviously not feeling well, and we just want to help you... okay? We won't look, if that'll make you more comfortable." Lithuania's head bowed towards the ground, and he nodded silently, feeling defeated. Did it really make him a baby because he wanted to die? Was he some invalid that needed to be looked after forevermore? Ivan's words continued to resonate in his head, causing a heavier and heavier weight on his chest. He slowly began to unwrap the large coat, shivering more as his wet clothes came into contact with the chilly air. That's right, he had turned off the heat in his house before he left. It might have been funny, that he rememebered a little thing like that, had it not been such a serious reason.

The coat dropped to the floor, and as Lithuania looked up tentatively, he saw that America and Russia were both looking away, though they seemed to be prepared to move should Lithuania try to escape. It made him feel practically inhuman, and he ducked his head again, beginning to work on the buttons of his shirt. He could see goose bumps on his chest as he opened his shirt, and a shudder seemed to rip through him.

He slipped off his shirt, then went to work on his pants. They came off in a soppy heap around his ankles, and he shook with cold. He did not take off his underwear, simply not feeling secure enough. Walking over delicately, he slid open his dresser drawers, and found a green sweater and a pair of pants. He put them on silently, looking up again to make sure he wasn't being watched. But no, America and Russia were keeping their word, faces averted from Lithuania. America was impatiently fiddling with the zipper of his bomber jacket, but Russia was stock still.

"I'm done," Lithuania announced into the quiet, and both their faces turned towards him. America smiled, though it wasn't really all that happy of a smile. "That's good. We'd better take you downstairs now." And he put a warm hand on Lithuania's shoulder and guided him towards the doorway. Russia stooped to pick up his coat, slipping it on as though it were the most natural thing he'd ever done. And it probably was, after all these years.

They had to walk single file down Lithuania's staircase, with Lithuania in front, America's hand still on his shoulder. It made Lithuania feel a little awkward, but he didn't want to complain, considering the circumstances. A tea kettle whistled, and Lithuania remembered that that was where England was. He hoped the hard part of all this was over...

/AN/ Aiyah, I just keep coming up with more and more material. There's going to be a fourth chapter too, though it probably won't take as long as this one did. Sorry about that, guys...


	4. Chapter 4

Well, I'm sorry to see most everybody has lost interest in my story... But I will at least do another chapter, for the sake of my one reviewer! (I really should have learned my lesson about updating frequently...)

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

England poured the hot water into a mug, in which the string of a tea bag hung over the edge. He looked up at the group saying rather offhandedly, "I'm sorry the tea won't be very good; you've only got the bad stuff that comes in a tea bag." Lithuania smiled weakly at him, remembering that England was a major tea drinker. Of course he would have preferences for high quality tea. But Lithuania rarely drank tea; it was a wonder he had any at all in the house.

America directed him over to the table, making him sit down in one of the chairs. Russia sat down across from him, a strange angry gleam in his eye. It brought back painful memories for Lithuania, as he remembered quite a few times he had made the larger nation angry and incurred punishment. It was different this time though. Some other emotion mixed in with the anger in Russia's eyes, and Lithuania could not quite pick out out. Then, Russia narrowed his eyes at him, and he stopped staring, instead dropping his gaze to the tabletop.

A mug full of brownish liquid appeared in his line of vision, and he looked up to see England's serious face. "Drink it before it gets cold," he said somewhat gruffly, as though he were afraid of showing any soft emotion towards Lithuania. And they weren't close, so Lithuania couldn't blame him. It just... It felt weird for someone to be so guarded around him. People normally talked to him pretty easily, since he was such a good listener. And he'd had to be, living first with Poland, the king of talkativeness, and then staying with America for a time.

America sat down next to him, clapping him on the back and making him jump. "So, it looks like you're not shaking as much!" Lithuania could only nod, as seeing America eye-smile at him made his voice a little untrustworthy. Plus, he did not particularly feel like talking; what he wished was that the others would start talking among themselves and forget him. Now, it was like he was a purple giraffe in the room, attracting everyone's attention and preventing any other coversation.

"So..." America was not smiling anymore, and looked pensively at Lithuania's hands, which were clasped around the mug of tea. "Are you going to tell us why you did it?" His eyes met Lithuania's green orbs. There was a beat of silence, before Lithuania looked away from America, bowing his head a little. He let out a breath, before saying, "You wouldn't understand."

Russia shook his head slowly, looking down on Lithuania coldly. He said nothing, however. It was England who spoke up, despite his obvious discomfort at doing so. "We've been around a long time, just like you. Maybe you'd be surprised what we understand." It was almost uncharacteristicly nice of him, and Lithuania had to take what he said seriously. "It's just that... I don't know... Have you ever felt alone?"

Russia snorted, causing Lithuania to flinch a little. Not in fear, but rather at the callousness of the gesture. America glared at Russia, and Lithuania could see one of his hands ball into a fist. "He can say whatever he wants! Don't make fun of him!"

Lithuania was quiet a moment, eyebrows furrowed. Why did Russia have to be here? He was absolutely not comfortable opening up in front of the nation who'd so cruelly abused him all these years! He shifted in his seat, before raising his mug to his lips and downing some of the hot liquid. Eyes stinging, he kept his gaze as far away from Russia as possible. America, however, nudged him with his shoulder, looking down on him kindly. "Now, what were you saying?"

"I... I... I felt... Alone." Lithuania's words stumbled out of his mouth, like babies learning to walk. Russia's eyebrows seemed intent upon meeting each other in the middle of his forehead as he frowned. "You are not alone. You have your brothers, and you have the rest of us. How could you possibly feel alone? It is foolish." Lithuania's eyes darted down again, and he could feel his cheeks heat up. He was no longer shaking, and quite in full control of himself, but just now he could feel the strength going out of his limbs.

His eyes teared up, and he quickly scrubbed at them with his sleeve. He was not crying again. They had seen that side of him far too much today, and he didn't intend for them to see it again. He was done with that. It was rather disheartening, to hear this sort of thing from Russia, even if he hadn't exactly expected the nation to be kind. America, however, was not taking it any better than he was. "Russia, stop it or I'll literally throw you out, understand?"

Russia gazed coolly across the table, crossing his arms. "I would like to see you try, da?" England, however, cleared his throat just then, giving them both a patronizing look. "Please, there will be none of that. Just listen without talking, you gits." America continued to glare across the table, but he said nothing. Russia met his glare with a cold look, and the two seemed locked in a stareoff. England harrumphed, and they broke it off.

"Why would you feel alone, though?" America asked curiously, getting back to the previous subject as easily as an ADHD child would. Lithuania fiddled with the end of his sweater, surely stretching it out irreparably. "I... I feel like whenever we're, all of us, together, all we do is fight. No one gets along, and... and I just can't live with it sometimes."

America nodded pensively. "So, that's it? You just wanted world peace? What made you think killing yourself would accomplish it?" Lithuania shook his head. "That's not all. I... Well, you wouldn't know about this..." He bit his lip, not sure how to go on, eyes darting over towards Russia nervously. America didn't catch the glance, but England did, and shrewdly said, "It has to do with Russia, doesn't it?"

Lithuania nodded slowly, and then looked over at Russia apprehensively. Russia's brow had darkened, and he shook his head. "I didn't do anything that bad to you; you're overreacting." It should have made Lithuania cautious and defeated; but it did not, and instead he felt anger rush to his head.

"No, no, you know what is overreacting? Beating someone for burning your damn soup!" Lithuania scrubbed at his eyes, glaring at Russia defiantly, and it was as though he had transformed; but then, it seemed to leave him all at once, and he collapsed like a house of cards, his shoulders slumping as he stared studiously at the table. He glanced over at America, and saw that his eyebrows were raised.

So were Russia's, as a furtive look told him. He couldn't believe he'd just talked back to Russia the way he had. He almost apologized, but bit his tongue to keep it in. Never would he be sorry about that. America was the first one to speak. "You beat him?" he asked dumbly, before his eyes turned accusative. "I always knew you were a bastard!"

Russia seemed not to hear America. "I could not have caused this..." he insisted, mostly to himself. He shook his head abruptly. "No. No. This is not my fault! It's all yours!" One large finger was pointed towards Lithuania, and Russia began to glare again. Lithuania looked into his eyes, eyes slightly watery as he stared accusatively at him. Russia shook his head again, and then stood up, thrusting the chair behind him. "No, this was all you! Do you understand me? You!"

And he exited the room angrily, slamming the door behind him.

/AN/ I think I'm going to need to make another chapter... Anyways, what do you guys think? Should Russia and Lithuania make up, or should they just never get along?


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews, everyone! I appreciate them a lot! Anyway, I haven't been this... into a story for a while now, so I'm glad it's turning out well! And I never thought it would get this long, that's for sure!

I don't own Hetlalia! end /AN/

There was silence after Russia left. England was the first one to speak. "That's some bloody good tea, so don't let it go to waste." Lithuania obediently lifted his mug to his lips, almost wishing they could just drop the subject of his suicide completely. But there was also a side of him that wanted to talk, that _needed_ to let it out. It was as though he would choke on his own sadness if he did not tell the tale. America put a hand on his shoulder suddenly, and Lithuania looked over the unusually solemn face.

"Did he do it for a long time?" America's voice was so different from the brash tones it usually took on, and from the twitching in his arm, Lithuania could guess that what he really wanted to be doing was smashing in Russia's face for any and all abuse Lithuania had sustained. Lithuania didn't meet his eyes, sighing deeply instead, with his hands wrapped around the mug. It felt good to absorb the warmth from the beverage, and he almost went to drink from it again, before he remembered that America needed a reply.

"Yes... nations used to do it all the time, and so it was normal during the time before I came to live with you as your housekeeper. He would intimidate us, my brothers and me, and force us to speak his language, and sometimes he would beat us with a rod to correct insubordinance," Lithuania murmured, knowing England would understand the cruelties of an age long past more easily than America would.

England nodded, remembering past times. "I used to have to keep Wales in line in a similiar way," he said, his tone almost approving of Lithuania's answer. America looked a little shocked, staring at England. "You beat up Wales? How come I never heard about this?" It was a little bit surprising America even knew who Wales was, but Lithuania supposed that he would have heard all about him, as well as Scotland and Ireland, from England.

"You have to understand, America, it was a different time. Sometimes, the only way to keep rebellions from reaching fruition is to strike against them. I'm not saying it was the perfect way to handle things, but it's just how it was," England explained, tone rather thoughtful as he remembered those times so long ago. America just shook his head. "And you wondered why I broke away from you!"

England glared, so Lithuania quickly cut in. "Please don't fight... It was a long time ago..." America held up his hans apologetically. "You're right, that's not why we're here. Please, continue, Lithuania."

Lithuania nodded, eyes darting down towards the table. "It got worse after I first rejoined Russia in the Soviet Union. World War II hit us hard, and it hit Russia especially hard. He didn't take it well, and he took it out on us. Particularly me... He said... he said I was his favorite." His eyes started to water a little, but he shook his head. " He got less and less brutal as time went on, but I could never forget how easily he could go back to that."

America's eyes were so filled with anger, Lithuania did not want to meet them. The younger country growled under his breath. "That bastard! I always knew he was a psycho!" He looked like he was going to get up and go after Russia to rough him up, so Lithuania put a hand on his arm.

"He... He couldn't really help it, he was just so angry over the war," Lithuania said, emotions twisting inside him in extremes. On the one hand, he wanted so much to just hate Russia over it all, and never let go of that hate until the day he died. It made him feel like he was held together that way. On the other hand, he couldn't jus mindlessly hate. He knew Russia had reasons he'd behaved in that violent way, and he wanted to just wish away the pain he'd endured, and pretend it never happened.

America's shoulders were tensed up, and his eyes flashed. "Don't make excuses for him, he's a bastard! Ooh, I just want to smash his stupid smiling face in!" And he started to stand up, his eyes focusing on the doorway Russia had exited through. At this point, England intervened.

"America, get a hold of yourself! You won't help anything by beating up Russia, so just sit on your bloody arse and keep your shirt on!" England's terse words seemed to be enoug to cool America's temper, or at least keep him in his seat. He grumbled a little, but sat, resting his face on his hands. "Well, how can I just do nothing? He _beat up_ Lithuania, England! And more than once!"

"I don't want you to beat up Russia! I just want you here!" Lithuania may have fantasized, on the rare occasion, of seeing Russia scared and helpless, being beaten down by someone bigger and stronger than him, but the thought was anything but tantalizing now. He did not want revenge; he had talked himself out of it some time ago. What he wanted was to not be alone anymore.

America's eyes widened, and they were filled with sincere surprise, and the compassion for which he could be well-known. He reached over, putting a hand that was almost surprisingly gentle on Lithuania's arm. "Hey, it's okay, I'm not leaving... I just, urgh! I just hate it when people get away with shit! He shouldn't have ever hurt you!"

Lithuania gave a sad smile. "I know..." He'd sat up at night himself, wondering why this had had to happen to him, of all people. Why he was always the favorite for Russia's abuse. And fortunately, he wasn't naive enough to think he could have caused all of it. Sure, there were times when it seemed like maybe he had been asking for it, but he could recognize that it was mostly Russia's fault.

Suddenly, the arm slipped around his shoulder, and he was pulled closer to America. "But it'll be okay... I'll make it okay. You'll feel better, you'll see." America's thumb was rubbing little circles on Lithuania's shoulder, and Lithuania melted against him. He knew how foolish America's childish optimism was, but he couldn't help wanting to trust in it, as well as America's conviction that he could fix him.

England cleared away the mug quietly, murmuring, "I'll get you some more." Lithuania gave a nod, rather content where he was. "I don't know what you can do for me, America... I don't think I can ever forget what happened to me."

America squirmed a little, thinking pensively. "Well, maybe... maybe if you come live with me again, I can keep you safe." Lithuania's eyes widened. He twisted to look America in the face, dumbfounded. "You'd really do that? Um- I mean- I would love to- if it's no trouble- I mean- I can work for you again-"

A finger was placed on Lithuania's lips, and America laughed a little. "You don't have to, it's okay. And I don't mind, really. My house gets lonely sometimes, even though Canada visits a lot. And Mexico, that bitch. Always sneaking into my backyard and getting me to pay her for gardenwork..."

Lithuania was so touched, he began to cry. "Thank you..." America patted his head, as though he were his little brother. "Don't cry, it's alright... Everything's going to be fine."

And Lithuania hoped it would be.


	6. Chapter 6

Yeah, so, I thought I'd write up this second to last chapter, and I also figured out that I have a focus problem because of my medicine. So yeah, that explains the quality of my writing quite a bit...

And I'm sad because my last chapter was such a flop... I hate it when I do that...

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Lithuania had left the safety of America's arms to pack, and he did so with a light head. He was really going to go and stay with America, and the thought was reassuring. No more lonely nights, no more teetering on the razor thin edge between wanting to live and wanting to die. He would have someone to turn to when he felt like the loneliness was sucking the very life out of him. And that was really all he wanted, and simple as it was, it had been hard to get.

He and Poland had split some time ago over differences that he knew would take a lot of time to go away. Poland had accused him of wanting to slit his throat and take his land, and however much he had protested later that it had just been a 'total joke, Liet,' Lithuania had known that things between them had really gotten too tense, and it was time for him to go. It hadn't been the first thing that had happened, but rather the last straw. Poland hadn't gotten over how he had stood against him during the last world war, and Lithuania found it hard to forgive Poland for his behaviour beforehand.

Now, however, he would be with someone who he had a completely good history with. He'd never done anything to America, and America had never done anything to him. It would be a relationship like they'd had before, awkward at first, with little understanding of the other, but in time, easy and warm.

But maybe it wouldn't be the same, he realised. Maybe, America would not treat him the same way. His insides seemed to quiver with nervousness. He stopped rolling up socks to pack into his suitcase. What if things were never the same, and he was treated as though he were a timebomb just ticking, about to go off any minute? Or as if he were made of porcelain? America had always treated him somewhat roughly, with slaps on the back, high fives and raucous humor. What if he never would again?

This made Lithuania sit heavily on the bed. He had never wished so hard he could take something back as he did his suicide. He felt a lump form in his throat, a lump made out of guilt and sorrow. There were no words to describe the self-loathing he felt right now. Why,why hadn't he considered the kind of effect he might have on people? He dreaded to think what Latvia and Estonia would think of him now. It had just felt like, when he'd first attempted suicide (and the times after), no one had noticed and no one had cared. He'd forgotten there was a world audience to what he did.

And now, he was paying the consequences. No one would ever look at him the same. It filled him with the sick, twisted feeling of wanting to kill himself for wanting to kill himself. It made him practically laugh at the absurdity of the feeling, but he was not disposed to laughing right now. No, this was serious. If he wanted to ever get things back to normal, he had to recover from the thought that plagued his every dream. He had to make a decision, now, that he would try to get better, instead of languishing in this dark little world of his.

He stood up, feeling little spirit, but a large amount of determination. He would go with America, and things would change. He finished balling up the socks in his hands, and packed with a mildly triumphant air, closing the large suitcase. Lifting it with one hand, he put one foot in front of the other and made his way down the thinly carpetted stairs.

As he made it down into the foyer and looked into the kitchen, however, he saw no one, only his tea kettle and an unwashed mug out of place. A wild panic seized him. Had they just left him here, to himself? He shook his head, willing himself to believe otherwise. He was a levelheaded person, and he would think levelheaded thoughts. They had probably gone outside to... check the car. Yes, that was clearly what they had done.

He tromped towards the door, and had only opened it a crack, when he heard voices and froze.

"-really sure you can handle someone like him, America? What are you thinking, inviting him back to your home?" England was the naysayer, arms folded crossly. Lithuania peeked out, and saw Russia, America and England standing together, right on his front porch. He held his breath, wondering what America would say.

America gave England an irritated look. "He needs me. And I didn't see you jumping up to take him in!" Russia gave America a cold glare. "I will be taking him in. He will never get another chance to hurt himself under my watch, da?"

Lithuania's breath hitched in his throat. Russia could not be serious, could he? After all he had put him through, he really thought he was the best one to take care of him? No, he must have simply wanted to get the opportunity to hurt him once again. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lithuania prayed to never to be handed over to the large country again.

"No way, Russia, not after what you did to him! You're lucky I don't rip your dumb face off, you bastard!" America snarled, hands clenching into fists. England reached out and grabbed America's arm. "Calm down! Getting all worked up isn't going to help anything! America, you have to consider that maybe he should go stay with someone else."

Lithuania knew he had no one else to go to, no one else he knew well, anyway. But clearly, England did not know that. America, on the other hand, was scoffing at the idea. "Like who? Seriously, who could be better for him than me? I know him better than you think; he stayed with me during the 20's."

"That's almost a hundred years ago, America! And I'm sure he could stay with Poland, or Estonia, or Latvia, or... or, um, maybe Finland or somebody, but not you! You're not cut out for this kind of thing, trust me!" England's tone was earnest, and almost whispered. It was as though he knew Lithuania was near, but not how near.

Russia seemed to still feel he had to get in his say. "England is right. You would be too soft on him and let him have things like razor blades and antifreeze. I would never let him have anything like that ever again. He would not die again on my watch, da?"

Exasperatedly, America bellowed at Russia, "You're not getting him, idiot! Quit suggesting it already! I'm taking him home with me, and that's that! It's not like either of you could stop me anyway, so just shut up about it already! I'm going to go and get Lithuania. We'll be taking the first flight to my home."

England gave a long-suffering sigh, but did not argue with America. Russia gave a sullen glare, seemingly very much convinced that he was the best choice for Lithuania's safety. Lithuania gave a small sigh of relief, before realising that America would catch him listening at the door, as he was tromping over just now. He quickly seized his suit case and ran into the kitchen, pulling some cheese out of his fridge (which was nearly bare) and munching on it.

America came into the room shortly after, and he sat down with a heavy sigh. Lithuania looked at him as though he had no idea what was going on. "Is everything alright, America?"

He was given a weary smile. "Yeah, everything's great. You all packed?" Lithuania nodded. "Good. We're going to catch the first flight back to my country, so we'd better get going. Kay?"

"Okay." Lithuania then paused, rethinking what he'd said. It occurred to him, that there was perhaps one last thing he needed to do. "But give me a few minutes... I need to do something." America gave him another smile and nodded. Then he went and looked in Lithuania's fridge for something to eat.

Lithuania could feel his heartbeat quicken as he walked towards the door. It wasn't something he truly wanted to do, but he knew he needed to get this off of his chest...

/AN/ Well, this was originallly going to be the last chapter, but hey, you know how that goes sometimes. You just get nedw ideas and end up lengthening the story. I think I'll be updating this story sooner next time.


	7. Chapter 7

Anyway, this chapter should be longer than the last one, so enjoy! Man, I'm having a major brain blah, like I can't focus, and I keep coming up with weird ideas... Fortunately, I'm not going to use them in this chapter, or else it would go totally crazy...

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Lithuania slowly opened the front door, peering out to see Russia standing and staring up at the sky listlessly. He felt his heart flutter uselessly, as what he was about to do momentarily frightened him. Maybe he should just back down now, and go with America, and leave this completely unsaid. Oh wait, now Russia was looking at him - he would wonder why he had come out here in the first place. He had better say something, and soon.

"I... I wanted to talk to you." His voice was a little more high-pitched than he would have liked, and Russia raised an eyebrow. Then he looked over England, and the island nation threw up his hands, saying, "Have your little conversation, I'll be bloody well inside!" And he stalked off to the kitchen, murmuring something about how America was crazy. Lithuania decided to ignore that bit.

Russia, of course, was looking expectantly at him. "Well? If you want an apology, it is not what you are going to be getting, understand?" Lithuania felt as though he would swallow his tongue in his nervousness. It was not as though he had expected Russia to be open and understanding, but it was a little harsh to hear coming from his lips.

"I actually... I wanted to tell you: I...I forgive you, even if you don't know what you've done." Lithuania's hands were knotting in his sweater, but he was looking Russia in the eyes earnestly. Russia looked surprised, eyes filled with shock, before breaking off eye contact with Lithuania. He stared at the ground intently.

"And this is supposed to make me feel guilty? It does not. You were a bad subordinate; I have done nothing wrong. You cannot make me accept your forgiveness." Russia was blunt, but maybe not completely honest, Lithuania suspected. Maybe, deep down, he knew what he had done, and he couldn't accept it. Either way, Lithuania couldn't change it, and he wasn't about to try.

His fingers twisted more in his sweater, and he took a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. You're not going to be the monster in my closet anymore; I'm moving on." The point was that he could let it go, not that Russia recognized what he had done. And so long as Lithuania was free of hatred, he could be free of the agonizing loneliness and depression. His hands released his sweater, and he turned to leave.

"Wait... If I were to apologize..." Russia seemed to be deliberating his choice of his words for the rest of his sentence. Lithuania turned back, a little hesitantly. He'd said what he wanted to say, and he wasn't sure what Russia was going to get into.

Russia continued, voice solemn and quiet. "Would you stay with me, and not America?" Lithuania was uncomfortable with the turn this conversation had taken, and his shoulders hunched a little. Then he sighed. "Russia, you know I can't. No, no, what I mean is, I won't. I won't live in terror again."

Coming so close it made Lithuania like he was suffocating, Russia put his hand on the shorter nation's cheek. His thumb caressed the soft skin, and Lithuania looked up at him in confusion. Then, suddenly, his frigid lips crashed into Lithuania's, and his arms wrapped around Lithuania's back, pulling him close. Lithuania's mind began to overflow with panic, and he tried to scream around Russia's mouth, arms pushing against him futilely.

He was trapped! His mind screamed at him to get out of there, now! Russia would not allow him to budge in the slightest, until, thank the heavens, he finally had to break for air, and he let go of Lithuania. Lithuania was slightly dizzy as he fell back onto his rear, spluttering unhappily. What the heck was that? Why had Russia... Oh shit, he had never done that before!

He scrambled up onto his feet, taking a few steps back. "What the hell was that?" He demanded, in a much more high pitched voice than he had intended, feeling very violated. Russia apparently looked at this very simply. "I love you. Come live with me, and I promise I won't hurt you. And, you'll never feel alone again."

Lithuania scrubbed at his mouth, trying to rid it of the taste of Russia - a taste that was a mixture of vodka and bitterness. He could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn't be sure what emotion they were there for - shock, fear, or _anger_. "I will never go back with you! I'm going with America, and nothing you say will change my mind! Just leave me alone!" And he spun on his heel, dashing into the house haphazardly.

He slammed into America, who had been heading into the foyer, Lithuania's suitcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. It was fortunate America had such a solid body, or else there could have been a major spill all over Lithuania's nice floor. America's eyes were wide as he looked down at Lithuania, surprise and slight confusion written all over his face, which was as easy to read as any baby book. "Whoa, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Um... yeah," Lithuania sniffled, backing off of America and breaking bodily contact with him. He lifted one hand to wipe his eyes. America actually picked up on how Lithuania was feeling, setting down the suitcase and putting a hand on Lithuania's shoulder. "Aw, are you sure? You seem kinda upset..."

"Yes, I'm sure. It was just... Harder than I thought." America did not need to know, Lithuania reasoned. He would not have to deal with Russia again any time soon, and during that time whatever passion Russia had for him might cool. It could be forgotten. He sincerely hoped that Russia had not been harboring these feelings for a long time, or else he would truly be in a sticky situation.

"Okay then. Well, we'd better head out. I called a cab, which fortunately the lady on the phone spoke English, and it should be here anytime. We'll just wait outside until it gets here." A brilliant smile from America, which had Lithuania nodding in agreement quietly. America picked up the suitcase again, and gestured with his coffee hand towards the door.

That was when Lithuania froze. He couldn't go back out there and face Russia again. America stood behind him, stopped in his tracks. "Uh, Lithuania? You do need to walk towards the door to go out of it..." Lithuania let his breath return. It was alright, he was with America, and Russia wouldn't dare try anything while he was with America.

His feet found their way, one in front of the other, and he gripped the cold handle of the door. He wavered for a moment. Russia was on the other side of this door, and was he really ready to face him again? Then he gathered himself, and pushed the door opened, heart beating against his ribcage.

There was Russia, and as soon as he saw him his eyes lit up hopefully, before his face changed into a sullen glare at the sight of America. Lithuania was just glad those pale purple eyes were no longer focused on him. America was oblivious, poking him in the back with his cup of coffee to keep him moving. "Come on, I think I see the cab coming up the street."

And indeed, there was the car, rolling up the street. Lithuania stepped faster up to the curb, as the cab pulled up to it. America opened the trunk of the car, and put the suitcase in. Then he opened the door for Lithuania. Lithuania could not help but glance back at Russia, and the large nation mouthed at him, 'Stay with me,' clearly intending to evoke some sort of feeling in Lithuania.

But Lithuania only felt a sick twist of his heart, and he shuddered. He hated to think what might have happened to him if Russia had been the one to find him, all by himself. He would surely be locked in a cold room of Russia's house by now.

He slipped into the cab, and America slipped in beside him. He looked out the back window as the cab pulled away, seeing Russia stare after them, his look a cross between a forlorn puppy and a viper. But that was behind him now, he reminded himself, as he turned around to face the front. That was his past, this, this thing with America, was his future.

And that was all there was to know.

/AN/ I dunno, I might write some sort of sequel, about Lithuania living with America or something, if people are interested. I hope you've enjoyed this story, and I didn't leave you hanging or anything, cause that's what I do sometimes by accident.


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